Weymouth, Dorchester & Portland in the Great War

By Jacqueline Wadsworth

When war was declared in 1914, the people of South Dorset were taken by surprise. Initially, there was excitement as the garrison town of Dorchester sprang to life, and Britain's Grand Fleet steamed from Portland Harbour to its war stations in the North Sea. But when the fervour subsided, what was it like for ordinary people? This book describes how they settled down with purpose to a life at war.Traders made the most of new markets, and women learned to cope not only with food shortages and blackouts, but the constant fear that their loved ones wouldn't return. Many threw themselves into the war effort. An enormous prisoner of war camp was established on the edge of Dorchester; wounded Australian soldiers were sent to recover in Weymouth, where they became firm favourites with the ladies; and soldiers billeted in Portland homes didn't always treat their hosts with the respect they deserved. Included in the book are the stories of a German spy who slipped through the net at Wyke; a teenage soldier shot dead by his friend; a scandal at a local military hospital; the touching friendship that developed between a nurse and a wounded Belgian; and what everyday life was like at Weymouth Torpedo Works.This warm account of life in Dorchester, Weymouth and Portland during the Great War ensures that the people at home, who lived through those five dreadful years of conflict, are remembered, too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Oct 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781473866348

Book preview

Introduction and Acknowledgements

THE AIM OF this book is to give a flavour of what life was like during the Great War in Weymouth, Dorchester and Portland. To this end I have gathered together memories of those who were there, diaries and letters that were written at the time, and contemporary photographs, newspaper reports and various other documents which I hope furnish a colourful account of those bleak days.

A number of people and organisations provided invaluable support during my research, and I would like to extend my sincere thanks to the following: Jim Barker, Duncan Barrett, John Broom, Geoffrey Carter, Dr Colin Chapman, Michael Day, Dorset History Centre, Dorset Library Service, the Dunn family, Anne McCosker, Shirley Mitchell and the ladies at Portland Heritage Trust, Tina Morley and Barbara Taylor, Eddie Prowse, Richard Samways at Weymouth Museum, the Sandes family, Eric Scott, and the keepers of the Smythe family records in Australia.

Thank you also to my husband and daughters, Ralph, Frances and Catherine Dunn, who read through the chapters as they were written and were never less than encouraging.

Last but not least, I would like to thank Jen Newby for her helpful and skilful editing.

Chapter One

1914 – EUROPEAN CONFLICT THREATENS PEACEFUL SHORES

AFTER A WET and miserable start to 1914, the people of South Dorset breathed a sigh of relief when the spring sunshine finally arrived, spreading its warmth over the chalky downs of the Ridgeway and then south towards Weymouth Bay. As communities gradually came back to life after the long winter, they started to make plans for the traditional summer events – fêtes, picnics, carnivals – just as their forefathers always had. Few noticed the clouds of conflict brewing ominously over Europe, nor did they have any way of knowing just how quickly Britain would be drawn into war later that summer. For the moment, they were busy with the affairs of everyday life.

On the Isle of Portland, local children had spent the winter saving their pennies and counting down the days to their annual Sunday school outing. Organized by the Band of Hope, a Temperance organisation for working class youth, it was one of the few opportunities many had to venture off Portland. When the big day arrived in May, well over a hundred youngsters crowded on to the platform at Easton Station, where a special train awaited. At the sound of the guard’s whistle the engine pulled away, trundling down the island’s steep incline, over the water to join the main line at Melcombe Regis, and onward to the village of Upwey for a day of fun and games, topped off by a fine strawberry tea.

Strollers enjoy the spring sunshine on Weymouth Parade in this photograph taken before the war. (Courtesy of Weymouth Library, Ref: L942.331 Wey.12).

Excitement of an entirely different kind was mounting among the well-to-do young ladies of Weymouth, as they prepared for the visit of a squadron of French warships in June 1914. A ball had been arranged to mark the occasion, which promised to be one of the social events of the year. It was being held at Sidney Hall, which then stood at the bottom of Boot Hill, and one of the 36 hostesses was Margaret Sneyd-Kynnersley, a widow who lived in Greenhill with her four daughters, Kitty, Sylvia, Madge and Rosie.

Children pictured early last century at Easton Clock Tower on Portland: the annual Sunday school outing was the only opportunity many had to leave the island. (Courtesy of Portland Heritage Trust).

The French arrived at Portland Harbour on a misty Saturday morning. ‘To time precisely, a smudge of smoke on the horizon and merging from its mistiness the funnels of the French cruisers appeared, while a little later the destroyers and submarines also showed up,’ wrote a reporter from The Times. ‘Joy week for Weymouth and the French,’ announced Sylvia Sneyd-Kynnersley in her diary. She and her sisters were lifelong diary-writers and – as will be seen in this book – their journals described in colourful detail how the war affected ordinary people’s lives.

The Sneyd-Kynnersley sisters were dressed in the finest Edwardian fashions Weymouth’s drapery stores could offer when they attended the ball three days later, and the evening proved a great success. ‘Danced till daylight, 3.30 … Ripping dance,’ wrote Madge.

In July it was the turn of Dorchester’s army wives to enjoy a day in the sun. Their husbands of the 3rd (Special Reserve) Battalion, the Dorsetshire Regiment, were away attending the annual summer training camp at Preston, on the eastern edge of Weymouth, and their families had been invited to visit. ‘The men … are now in the third week of their month’s training at Preston, and all of them are quite tanned by their exposure to the sun during their evolutions [exercises] and amusement in the open air,’ reported the Southern Times. ‘They have had fairly good weather up to the present and have borne the discomforts of a few wet days with cheerfulness.’

Special attention had been paid to ‘the aggressive side of modern warfare’, continued the report. One morning a sham attack was made on an old coastguard station close to the camping ground, which was quickly captured at the expense of very little ammunition. ‘In the afternoon the wives and children of the sergeants came out from Dorchester and were entertained at the camp, spending a very pleasant time.’

‘Joy week for Weymouth,’ wrote Sylvia Sneyd-Kynnersley in her diary. (Courtesy of the Sandes family).

Edwardian ladies take the air on Chesil Beach, but war would soon be approaching these shores. (Courtesy of the Sandes family).

When the camp was wound up on Saturday, 1 August, tension was mounting on the Continent after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, in Sarajevo. Alliances between the major European countries were activated, armies were mobilised and Germany invaded neutral Belgium. Britain demanded Germany’s immediate withdrawal from its ally’s territory, which was refused and, as a result, war was declared. The lives of ordinary people not only in Britain but across the world were about to be turned upside down.

With the balmy days of summer camp still fresh in their minds, the soldiers of Dorset’s 3rd Battalion would soon come face to face with the realities of ‘modern warfare’. Meanwhile, the Sneyd-Kynnersley sisters found themselves back at Sidney Hall – this time in the uniform of Red Cross nurses – when it was turned into a military hospital. And Portland’s children would now donate their hard-earned pennies to buy comforts for the men at the Front, perhaps their own fathers, uncles and brothers. Conflict was lapping at the peaceful shores of South Dorset.

Britain’s declaration of war against Germany was issued at 11.00pm on 4 August. At first there was great excitement throughout the county. Members of Dorset Council could hardly contain their exuberance when the chairman, Lord Portman, proposed a motion of support for the war. Every sentence he spoke was roundly cheered, according to a report in the Western Gazette:

‘They [the Government] were bound to go to war – (hear, hear) – for they could not have deserted France in her trouble. (Hear, hear.) If they had deserted France at this crisis they could never have held their heads up again – (applause) – either in Europe of the Empire. (Renewed applause.)’

It wasn’t long, however, before excitement was tempered by unease. The country had been at peace with her European neighbours for a century and therefore no-one knew quite what to expect. Many householders began laying in emergency stocks, which promptly led to price rises: ‘Food going up so Sylvia & I went to town and bought 21lbs biscuits, 1 ton coal, 12lbs jam, 4lbs tea, also cocoa, beans, macaroni, Horlick, flour and soap, candles!’ remarked Madge Sneyd-Kynnersley in early August.

Notices appeared in newspapers warning the public not to panic-buy, like this one from the Southern Times:

‘The Weymouth Master Bakers’ Association appeal to all their Customers to assist in this great National Crisis by TAKING ONLY THE USUAL QUANTITIES of BREAD and FLOUR and Paying for the same as soon as possible. All bakers have now to PAY CASH for some of the Materials they use. It is therefore impossible to give more than a WEEK’S CREDIT to anyone at the present time.’

A warning from the Weymouth Master Bakers’ Association printed in the Southern Times during August 1914.

(Above, below, center and bottom) Snapshots taken on Weymouth seafront show troops (thought to be Canadian) mustering one cold winter’s day. At the outbreak of war, townspeople were unused to such military scenes. (Courtesy of the Sandes family).

Some traders, like the local motor and cycle company Tilley’s, made it clear that their services had not been disrupted. ‘Business as usual,’ its advertisement insisted. ‘If you have any difficulty with your transport we can help you. Our prices have not been raised.’

Others turned the situation to their advantage. The Maypole Dairy gleefully advertised the fact that its margarine had been made using nuts confiscated from captured German ships. In contrast, V. H. Bennett, which sold a range of goods and could probably claim to be Weymouth’s earliest department store, anticipated the need for medical supplies and let it be known that the store was ‘fully stocked with all goods necessary for Red Cross meetings’. Their shelves were piled with nurses’ aprons, caps, sleeves and dresses, and a free pattern was on offer to any customers buying material to make soldiers’ shirts.

The Dorchester furniture store Hannah and Holland put together ‘bed sets’ for the Red Cross, which comprised: a 3ft iron bedstead with wire-sprung mattress, soft mattress, bolster, pillow, two blankets, two white sheets and a pillow slip. ‘Send your order and cheque for two guineas and we will do the rest,’ they assured potential customers.

Army mobilisation was immediate and became particularly evident in the garrison town of Dorchester, home to the Dorsetshire County Regiment. Its thoroughfares were soon bursting with reservists and men from the part-time Territorial Force and Yeomanry, all gathering there to receive orders. This is how the Dorset County Chronicle described the scene on 6 August:

‘The streets of Dorchester to-day have been suggestive of those of